Ulysses frowned. D Cunningham?
We’ll have to get that framed, said Cressy, and he took the portrait from her and carefully re-rolled it.
The Dorothy Cunningham? said Ulysses.
I don’t know if she’s a the, but the signature’s real, said kid. A lady told me it was— Dorothy Cunningham was here?
Over there in the colonnade—
What lady told you? said Ulysses.
When I was in the church.
What church?
There’s a mighty lot of questions going on here, said the kid, pretending to drink Cressy’s beer. She wiped her mouth and said, The church where the pink and blue painting is. The one we went into with Pete. I followed an old lady inside because she looked interesting. She was dressed all in white.
Maybe she was a nun? said Cress.
She had a white turban on her head.
Maybe not then, said Cress.
And I showed her my picture. And then she said she had to go because she had a date with Rome.
A date with Rome? said Cressy. Fancy that.
Five o’clock train. I told her I liked the cloud. And then Evelyn – that was her name – she said— Ulysses was out of the chair before she could finish. Eat without me! he shouted as he ran across the square in the direction of the river. Along the Lungarno Guicciardini people stopped to watch. He dodged cars and cyclists and came dangerously close to a tram on the Ponte alla Carraia. His lungs were bursting, and his legs burning; Scusi, scusi, he shouted. Through Piazza Goldoni and up Via dei Fossi. Into Piazza Santa Maria Novella, crossing tramlines, dodging workers, people staring, shouting.
I’m coming, Evelyn, I know it’s you.
He ran up to the railway station, three steps at a time, and bent double at the departure board, a right old dog pant. He saw the platform number and raced towards it, and people were shouting and gesticulating and he’s a liability in crowds. At the platform gate, he saw the train slowly moving off, and he begged to go through, and the train accelerated and he was off again and his legs were so tired, and he managed a last burst of speed and he thought he might just get there, might just— But the platform ran out.
And the train was gone.
He sat down. A policeman stood over him as he tried to get his breath.
On the train, Dotty had been watching events out of the window. When Evelyn returned to the carriage, Dotty said to her, I’ve just seen something extraordinary. A young man was running for the train as if his life depended on it.
Love, said Evelyn.
What else? said Dotty.
Evelyn leant across her friend to look out. I don’t see anything, she said.
Too late, said Dotty and she sat back and unwrapped a mortadella sandwich. Bite?
No thank you.
You look a bit forlorn, said Dotty.
I feel as if I’ve left something behind, said Evelyn. I feel a bit incomplete.
You’ll be back.
Yes, I suppose I will.
But the knowledge of her future return didn’t dispel the feelings of unease. She reached for the mortadella sandwich.
Maybe I will have a bite, she said.
Go on. Tuck in, said Dotty. There’s artichoke in it.
Delicious, said Evelyn. Lifts it, doesn’t it?
I meant to tell you, said Evelyn when she’d finished chewing. I met the young girl you drew.
Dotty laughed. Cap and dark fringe?
Quite a character, said Evelyn.
She rather charmed me.
But you don’t like children, Dotty.
No, I know I don’t. But she was more like an adult in small clothes. She said she ran a boarding house.
A boarding house?
Evelyn took another bite of the sandwich.
You signed it, Dotty, she said.
I know. But I had to. For the upkeep. Boarding houses don’t come cheap, you know.
A little under a year later, in January 1955, Evelyn planned another trip to Florence but had to cancel on account of a nasty bout of flu. She lost days to her bed and was crotchety and frustrated.
Jem Gunnerslake visited with flowers and Evelyn was happy to see him. He confirmed that his mother was Penelope the theatre critic. Why? he said.
No reason, said Evelyn, who couldn’t wait to tell Dotty.
He stood in front of a photograph – a rare grouping of the Three Vi’s （Virginia, Violet and Vita）。 They looked miserable and interesting. Dotty was there that day; you can see her with a shotgun in the background. Blurred but the stance unmistakeably Dotty.
Jem said, I’d like to see Miss Cunningham again.
And Evelyn smiled and thought, When she finds out who your mother is, you probably will.
That evening, Dotty came by to make soup.
This flu virus wouldn’t have touched me if I’d been forty-five, said Evelyn.